


it's not logical

by ViolaWay



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Internal Monologue, M/M, spock-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:32:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolaWay/pseuds/ViolaWay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock never expected to feel this way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's not logical

It’s Not Logical

_It’s not logical,_

_But that’s the way I feel,_

_It’s heaven underneath my skin,_

_But it’s hell out here._

_\--_ Ain’t No Sense in Love, by Take That.

He’s on The Bridge, when it starts. What, exactly, he’s not sure. It’s something, though, something very different. One minute it’s normal (mapping out the stars in this new, foreign galaxy, ignoring any and all distractions), and the next Jim’s warm hand is against his shoulder, and Spock’s body feels like it’s heating up from the inside out, which is implausible because he hasn’t moved from his station and he’s fairly sure that the temperature of the room has not increased (normally it is actually slightly too cold for his physiological preference: only his personal quarters are kept at a climate which is more suitable for Vulcans).

There’s an unfamiliar rush of blood to nearer the surface of his skin, and he’s certain that his cheeks must be tinged green—blushing, although he refuses to use such terminology. Vulcans do not _blush._ It is a representation of emotion.

He answers the Captain’s question in flat, clipped tones, knowing that the tremor in his voice will, thankfully, be indecipherable to human ears.

“Great,” Jim says, in the vague voice that signifies that he wasn’t paying attention in the slightest. Spock wonders why the Captain is speaking to him at all if he is not interested in the procedure, but he refrains from pointing this out. Jim leans over Spock to read the star map over his shoulder, and Spock’s breath abruptly cuts off. He closes his eyes in order to centre himself, breathing deeply and controlling the frantic beating of his heart.

“Thank you, Captain,” Spock replies dismissively, trying to get rid of this unwelcome feeling. He’s awarded with a quizzical look and, finally, a sudden absence of the stifling, and horribly confusing, presence.

***

That first time was fairly early on during his time as First Officer, and the feeling does not go away. Rather, it intensifies, and he learns to ignore it as much as possible. He wants to avoid this affecting his professionalism in any way, so he supresses this emotion the same way he does all others.

Until, that is, he realises that he’s lost Jim—that he’ll never again feel the thrill of that casual touch and that he’ll never again be able to covet the feeling of Jim’s gaze on him (when the man thinks that his First Officer is unaware that he’s looking; humans are not subtle). Until their hands are pressed desperately against the glass as if they are trying to break through by sheer willpower and his human/Vulcan strength alone.

That is the moment that Spock realises that despite the fact that he has never lied to Uhura, that moment in the volcano, he was not thinking about her: she was not the trigger to him cutting off his emotions entirely (admittedly, he was actually running through each and every Starfleet regulation that should have ensured his death), but he was (also) thinking about how much he would miss Jim—his insistence on running headfirst towards danger, his never-ending loyalty towards the crew, and his bravery. Spock thought about never seeing his Captain again, and he firmly stopped feeling anything at all.

He watches Jim slump; his eyes take in the moment the hand slips from the glass, and the inescapable truth forms in his numb mind.

He is (was) in love with James Kirk.

And he’ll never be able to tell him.

***

Then Jim wakes up from death (because that’s who he _is,_ can get back from anything), and it’s all Spock can do not to immediately reveal these…feelings, to bare the deepest secrets of his soul in case he should ever come so close to losing Jim again. A precaution, as such.

But he’s scared. Embarrassingly so. Illogical, consuming fear that prevents him from telling the truth.

He wonders if humans feel this conflicted all the time, and he gains a newfound respect for the species.

Every time he builds up the courage to confess, he’s struck once again by the horrific thought of losing Jim’s friendship in the process (because surely Jim cannot love him back, will not possibly feel the same way), and he remains in silence.

The there’s the problem of Uhura (who isn’t actually a problem for very long). She is twice as clingy after the Khan incident, and Spock wonders if it’s because she knows (or suspects, at least). So when he politely requests that they “terminate our romantic interactions”, she wishes him good luck and leaves with a sad smile on her face that Spock knows he is responsible for but can’t bring himself to regret.

He still doesn’t tell Jim, though.

He curses himself for the lack of logic: the worst possible outcome is rejection (although, actually, there are variables that could, theoretically, result in death. There’s only a 0.3% chance of that, though, so he ignores the unlikely statistic).

To admit it to himself is a weakness, but he is undeniably afraid.

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> I might write a sequel, if people enjoy this enough :)  
> Kudos/Bookmark/Comment!  
> (My tumblr is multifandomstylinson.tumblr)


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